


'no one knows the pain'

by cara_ox



Category: WTFock | Skam (Belgium)
Genre: Bipolar Disorder, I'm v sad about this, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Institutions, Suicidal Thoughts, sander deserves the world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:42:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21748483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cara_ox/pseuds/cara_ox
Summary: so bc I’m an impatient bitch and can’t wait until Friday I decided to write a little piece about sander – I’m not even sure how to describe it. But I wanted to write something different from my usual stuff and like everyone else I’m obsessed with these two and just want them to be happy!enjoy x
Relationships: Sander Driesen/Robbe IJzermans
Comments: 4
Kudos: 59





	'no one knows the pain'

_Because there is no us_

Those 5 heart-breaking words from the love of his life glare right back at him, until the screen turns blank and Sander is faced with his own wretched reflection. The bags under his eyes almost seem to have a life of their own, separate to himself. He hasn’t slept for three days, but it was only now his body had started to react. Everything was too much. Too loud. Too crowded. Too bright. His bed...the bed in this room he’d been given, it wasn’t comfy at all. It felt too small, yet too big. The sheets were itchy against his skin, they looked and smelt clean, but they didn’t feel right. The room was tiny, he felt claustrophobic as if the walls would soon start to move towards each other and he’d been even more trapped.

He was just so tired. He wanted it all to stop. He didn’t want to feel anymore. He was so tired of feeling. So tired.

Since regaining consciousness, his thoughts had just been on Robbe. He still hadn’t put all the pieces of that night back together, not completely. He remembered lying in bed with Robbe, so calm and comfortable in his arms. Then he was by the window, he remembered feeling warm. His skin became less of his own, he wanted to scratch it all away. Out of bed. Then possible hunger. Cold air. Dampness. Darkness. Sirens. Britt’s piercing voice. A soft touch. A distance shout.

But he couldn’t tell what was real. All of these memories, delusions, would crash together as if fighting to who would stay in Sander’s mind. A constant fight, one that Sander was so tired of. A constant cycle.

He unlocks the screen and stares blankly at the message again for a moment before pushing his phone aside and forces himself to stand up beside his bed. His throat feels dry, he needs water or something. Wrapping his fingers around his neck, he squeezes ever so slightly, gulping down. Dying by strangulation. The thought hadn’t crossed his mind. Not in that way. Could someone strangle _themselves_ to death? He wasn’t sure he was even strong enough. He felt so weak and tired.

Dying had become something Sander thought about regularly. To die in a moment, a happy moment; wasn’t that the dream? But right now, he wasn’t happy. He’d never been so unhappy in his life. Dying now, that wouldn’t help, would it? Would it be right? To die alone?

He tearfully reaches back for his phone, his hands trembling at the thought of replying to that message. His fingers hover ever so slightly over the keypad, wishing for the words, the right ones, to appear in his mind. He waits and waits. Nothing. Emptiness.

He knows he needs to lie down, try to control himself. The unappealing bed stares up at him, trying to entice him, but he chooses the floor instead, hard and uncomfortable but still a better option. He flinches slightly at the touch of the cold ground and tries to control his breathing, just like his mother taught him. Trying to imagine anything that’ll help, Sander closes his eyes and thinks back to that night, of what he can remember. Straining his brain for any kind of happiness, Sander struggles to breathe, the emptiness pushing down hard. He tries to rid this feeling, sitting up and rubbing his hands against each other. Trying again, he lays down and thinks of Robbe, just Robbe. Those ocean eyes, the little twinkle that made Sander weak at the knees, that adorable giggle he did whenever Sander said something only half amusing, his tenderness whenever he touched Sander, the warmth of his touch, the feel of his small curls between Sander’s fingers.

His heart yearns for Robbe, yearns for his touch, yearns to hear his laugh, hear his soft voice, but in his mind, he knows that he doesn’t deserve him, not after everything he’s done. Robbe needed someone stronger, someone kinder, someone who knew their own mind. Sander didn’t fit the bill. Robbe obviously knew his own worth, and Sander wasn’t worth the trouble. He fucked it all up. The one time and _only_ time, he really needed not to do that.

The guilt seems to be growing inside him. Sander doesn’t think he’s ever felt this bad about an episode. So ashamed. So unhappy. So hopeless. Not only does his heart ache, but his entire body doesn’t even feel like his own. It was becoming too much for Sander. It always became too much. Crawling back onto the bed, he crouches down, pulling his legs towards himself, gripping tightly, and starts yanking at the tugs of hair. It hurts. Sander knows it hurts. But he carries on anyway, wanting to feel more. He needs to. Just something. This goes on for a good 5 minutes until the literal tears in Sander’s eyes pierce his skin, and he comes back to reality. Sander can feel his heart, it beats and beats, physically hurting, just as if it was being shattered into pieces that very moment by every single beat.

He wanted to reach out, reply to Robbe, explain everything. But wouldn’t he just cause more damage? He’d already fucked so much up, in such little time. It had been what, 2 months? He’d felt so much for Robbe in that short amount of time but now it was clear that he just ruined everything. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t try and try for it to just go wrong. Again, and again.

This just proves what Sander always knew, deep down. A burden. That’s all he is, all he’ll ever be. A burden to his tired mother. A burden to angry Britt. A burden to lovely, sweet Robbe. Nothing will ever change that. Maybe it would be better for Sander to stay here, away from anyone else he could ruin.

He should never have hoped. Never have imagined that he could be so happy. Those moments in the hotel, before it all came crashing down, they were too perfect. The calm before the storm.

But can he blame Robbe? Who would want to deal with this kind of Sander? His mother could barely cope. Britt always seemed to despise but relish Sander being something to fix. Robbe knew the truth; something Sander was so scared of, and now he knew he was too good for Sander. Something Sander had always feared.

Alone once again. Always alone. Forever alone. His biggest fears came true.

No one wanted this version of Sander, the real Sander, not even Robbe. No one can help Sander, not even himself. He doesn’t deserve help. He deserves this all. He never deserved someone so true, so kind like Robbe. He was so foolish to think something good could finally happen.

But Robbe was so soft and warm and kind, compared to Britt who was so harsh and angry and loud. The two were such a contrast, and yet it was Britt who forced herself onto Sander, who even now would insist on visiting him. It had been white noise from Robbe until Sander had sent that message over. He tried to keep it light, wanting to check the waters before delving into what happened. Maybe that annoyed Robbe. Maybe he should have been more direct. Robbe couldn’t have been more direct with _that_ message.

Everything seems so dark. The loneliness seems to take over. He can’t feel anything else. It hurt to breath; he feels like he’s suffocating. He just wants it all to stop. Forever. He stays the same for the next two days, not getting much more sleep, he barely eats (the food here is nothing compared to his own cooking) until he sees a notification from Robbe.

_I want you!_

By this time, he can barely bring himself to move. All of his energy seemed to be used up. He can’t stop looking at the notification. He doesn’t open it, still wary, but reads over the message, unsure if it’s real or not. Of course, it’s real, it has to be real. But why would Robbe do this? Make him feel so empty and worthless, and then turn it around. Why would Robbe want someone like Sander?

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to anyone who gives this a read, i hope i did sander justice.
> 
> only two more sleeps until friday guys!!
> 
> come and say hello on [ twitter](https://twitter.com/cara_follon) and [ tumblr](https://peterjakes.tumblr.com)
> 
> x


End file.
